How empty is thy pot?

The crystal clear glass pot
Stands alone in a room
Filled up to the brim, in gloom
It perspires, loading the lot  
And can never say it cannot
For that alone cause it’ll bloom
Otherwise uselessness will make its doom
So beauty filled the crystal pot

So it is our clear life
Let not it perish in fire
Let every task fill it up
Let made be fruitful every strife
Every tasks like a skill acquire
And pour it in Zion’s cup!